Death of a Belmont
by Renato Oliveira
Summary: The Count awakens... Years of battle have left an old hero in a pitiful state. His son's turn has come. Father and daughter continue what little normalcy is left to them. Until a familiar face shows up...


Death of a Belmont

By Renato Oliveira

The fire burned cold. He couldn't explain why or how, but since his return many years prior, his blood never found warmth. A body left in ruins, a shell, robbed of strength and mind.

His daughter sat close and tried to read him a book, but such trivialities could not drown her worry and it showed on her delicate face. The thought of Richter, her brother, was far too heavy.

He left in the morning, senses tingling, and blood boiling, as his body awakened its hidden powers. Although the young woman underwent the same inner changes as her kin, she could not comprehend the meaning of it all. The family had long decided to spare her the imprisoned life of a Belmont. Though they knew she could stomach it.

"Father, do you think--?"

"I think… nothing… Anne May." interrupted the old man with a hoarse voice.

Anne looked at her father's dried lips as he tried in vain to wet them with his tongue. She hurried to fetch him a cup of water and began to feel uneasy. Her hands trembled, her body felt insatiable, relentless, and restless. There was anger, there was courage, there was fear, and there was strength. The muscles in her arms tensed abruptly breaking the cup in her grasp. A wooden shard had pierced her palm. Anne pulled it out slowly, without even a hint of pain, and the wound healed immediately.

She felt alone, she was alone now that Richter was gone.

What about Richter? Would he survive his ordeal? What ails awaited him?

Anne looked out the window, and imagined him traveling tirelessly along a pitch dark road. His light steps barely shuffling the autumn leaves. A predator, a hunter. But Anne knew as soon as he entered the realms of the Crimson Lord, there would be no more hunter, there would only be a man, a hunted man, a prey. If Richter could feel _H__is_ presence, so would the Crimson Lord know of the Belmont's approach. How could her family and that of a demon be so unified? Like two halves of the same heart.

A frightening notion.

Humans were allowed the luxury of ignorance. There was no safety for Anne or Ritcher. Her father captured Medusa heads for the purpose of training reflexes, or used powerful dark spells to summon skeletons to serve as training mates. Human ordinariness was a Belmont folktale. They had never known a home without whips, magic potions, or the smell of dead monstrosities. All Ritcher had to save him were the years of training, and a legendary family whip. _The Vampire Killer. _But how could a whip, no matter how renowned or mastered, ever be enough?

But it had been enough, and their father was proof of it. He was an abnormally powerful spell caster for a Belmont and taught everything to Richter. Although her brother was never too fond of spells and vastly favored brawn. She saw during practices the raw supernatural power of Belmonts. But she felt it too. A sword in hand, Anne sensed a natural prowess awaken. There was an indescribable excitement as she wielded the weapon. The feeling was overwhelming and she thought herself no different than all the monsters her bloodline so heartily despised. Richter often comforted his sister.

"If the darkness is allowed its monsters, so should the light be allowed its defenders. It is a bittersweet curse. We are more than human, yes. But our inhumanity is an intimacy that is to be ultimately shared only with unholy creatures. Do not burden yourself with these matters, sister; I live so that you may be free of this reality."

"Anne? Anne? Answer me girl!" her father's words snapped her out of worry.

When she heard him shuffle to get up, she hurried with a new cup of water. After handing him the drink, she wondered if Richter would share the same fate as their father. A soul drained of everything—a broken soul. A life for the clan meant a life given so that every commoner, petty thief, every breeze, every scent of flower, could continue untouched by evil. And no one would know their names. No one would know their sacrifices. Just like the howling of a wolf in the midst of night, they would only hear its sound but not its meaning. A dark fear lost in the unexplained.

What injustice!

A once virile man, with a head as big as a buffalo's, arms as thick as a tree trunk, a laugh loud like a mountain lion's roar, only to be reduced to a pale shadow of his former self. Her father's frailty perturbed her profoundly. Could it really be the fate of heroes? She could not understand the injustice. Death or slow death were the only choices.

There was a knock on the door. The old man's eyes grew large with panic. He grabbed the sword beside his chair and quickly handed it to Anne. She took the weapon and made her way to the door.

"No one comes here without purpose or intent for these parts are forgotten to the world. So speak, before I choose blade over words!" said Anne confidently.

"I very much need to speak to an old friend." said a muffled but powerful voice.

"Open the door, Anne May! Open it now!" yelled her father.

"Why--" she replied.

"Do not question your father, open the damn door!" responded the old man angrily his hands pounding furiously on the arms of the chair.

Anne unlocked the door slowly, twisted the knob and pulled it carefully while holding the sword's grip. She gasped in surprise as she set eyes on the man in front of her. He was unusually tall. His long blond hair hung like silk on his broad shoulders. He was exquisitely dressed, with clothes only a noble could afford. His features were delicate, in a veil of ivory skin; he appeared more like a statue than a man.

"You are late. Ritcher is long gone... I do not have to ask you what brings you to this part of Romania." said the old man watching the flames burn.

"I come from far, my old friend, very far." said the visitor with a slight accent. He ignored Anne completely.

"Ha! You get to travel the world while we Belmonts have to sit here like good shepherds looking after a flock of undead. Not by choice, but birthright. I am glad you get to breathe a different air than your old man's stinking breath." replied the old Belmont bitterly.

"I assure you, where I have been…" answered the man sorrowfully as he caught on to the state of his old friend. "My father's grasp extends to the ends of the world."

"Surely, anywhere is better than here!" spat back the old man.

Her father's sudden show of strength made Anne uneasy. He spoke with clarity and sounded like his healthy self. The man tried to take a step into the house but Anne raised the butt of her sword to his stomach and refused to move. It was then that he finally acknowledged her. He looked deep into her eyes. He emanated enormous power from a simple gaze.

"Who are you?" she asked mesmerized by his light grey eyes.

The man remained silent. He simply continued to stare at her peacefully and unafraid.

"Let him in, child. He is a friend, even if he is a dhampir..." added her father.

Anne was taken aback by the revelation, and decided rather instinctively to attack the visitor. She feared the old Belmont was lost to an evil spell. Her father always told them never to trust unholy creatures. Half-human or not, a dhampir was still considered unholy.

Before the sharp sound of her sword ringed in her ear as she raised it out of its scabbard, the man was gone. She stepped out of the house, walking confidently, blade in hand. Her light green eyes glowed fiercely under the moonlight. The cold wind hit her hard; she could hear its howl pass through her long brown hair and with it the stench of nearby marshes.

"A Belmont, no doubt about it." whispered the dhampir behind her. "But you know not yet how to use your gifts! You listen to your heart when you should be delving deeper."

Anne swung behind her blindly. Her speed and reflex even took the visitor by surprise but it was far from enough to harm him. Anne, in turn, was flabbergasted by his speed. She had barely blinked and he appeared in front of her.

"Speed is lie; feeling is truth. Let this be your first lesson. But also, a dress is no battle attire; your second lesson..."

Anne showed only a hint of a nervous smile. She knew her opponent was beyond her abilities but it did not deter the undeniable hunger for battle consuming her.

_"When supernatural strength is not sufficient, sheer power of will, will often do. If not, wish for a quick and painless death." _her father used to tell Ritcher during arduous practice.

Like a graceful dancer she moved with intensity and resolve. Anne's feet shifted on the hard ground raising a cloud of dust behind them, as she positioned her body for a powerful forward slice. But as she completed her strike, she could only watch as the man dodged elegantly around her blade, his dark cloak like ripples behind him. He completed his movement and remained motionless in front of her, wrapped in his cloak. He watched the young woman attentively, expressionless. Anne, sword steady, continued to defy her foe. She tried to examine the dhampir, urgently trying to find an opening. But she only had time to hear a faint sound. A light disturbance in the flow of the wind. And as the young woman tried to regain her composure, the stranger was already in motion and coming full-speed. Anne, startled, and lacking battle experience, fell for the obvious bait, choosing emotion over logic. When she struck vainly at him, he parried the weapon with his hand by tapping it lightly out of harms way, and by then ran his long nails along the body of the blade as he approached at tremendous speed. The sword flew out of her hand. Anne stumbled backwards and had just enough momentum to dodge his approach by performing an agile back flip. But he caught her in mid-jump. He seemed to float through the air.

"You truly are your father's daughter." said the visitor calmly. "Let me introduce myself, I am Adrian Tepes."

Once he landed effortlessly, Anne, embarrassed and outclassed, demanded to be put down. The man promptly obliged.

"Alucard… The son of Dracula... Who chooses to mingle with the humans! What do we owe the visit? Guilty conscience? I believe that's what drove you away in the first place." argued Anne, resorting to engage her opponent in a fight of words.

"Call him by his human name, girl! Alucard is a term spread by fear mongering tongues. Even before you drew blade you did not stand a chance against him. In all my years I have never seen anyone as agile as him with a sword. But you impress me, Anne. You readily accept your ancestry rather than fight it like your brother." said the old Belmont who stood at the front door, "I am sorry Adrian, we Belmonts are not made for warm welcomes. You see Anne May, Adrian is a monstrosity we can call a friend. I don't have to tell you how rare that is."

Anne looked at her father with amazement. How had he managed to summon the strength to walk on his own?

"When _He_ awakens, so do our senses heighten, my girl. We become more powerful. You feel it too, I am sure. We call it the Crimson Time. Although in my case, it is just enough to become less of a burden to you." explained the old man noticing his daughter's confusion.

Adrian picked up the Belmonts' sword and examined it out of curiosity.

"The Stellar Sword, that is", said the old man solemnly. "Maxim's gift before he passed. Lucky bastard left me here rottin'. Doesn't have to worry about a thing anymore."

Adrian handed the weapon back to Anne but not before inspecting her person. He saw great power in the young beautiful woman. A human specimen unlike any he had ever seen in all his years. Her eyes still burned with the ashes of their previous combat. He could only imagine what her brother; a born and bred Belmont was capable of. But Anne May was as much a Belmont warrior as Adrian had ever known. Her stare did not falter.

Feeling the tension in the air, the old Belmont decided to invite his guest in.

"Come in, come in! We have much to talk about. "

Adrian and the old Belmont spoke for many hours. They exchanged ideas on the state of the world, events long past and the future. There was an air of sadness about them. Anne observed and listened. She was mesmerized that her father, who had very few friends, could be at ease with a monster.

"I am not your enemy." whispered a voice inside her head. "Your father will need you soon. He will not last the night."

Anne, eyes tearing, was overwhelmed with sadness.

"_How can you know for certain?" _asked Anne May in thought.

There was no answer.

The new realization troubled her for some time but as she saw her father enjoy his ale, beard foaming, lips full of life again, and eating full heartedly, it comforted her. Even the color of his skin seemed livelier.

"Why have you come here, when all your troubles lie elsewhere?" inquired the old Belmont suddenly, tired of the pleasantries.

"You are going to die." answered Adrian nonchalantly.

"Spare me no words!" spat back the old man sarcastically.

"It is great news!" added Adrian with a level-headedness known only to immortals. "We are warriors. We are friends. I cannot lie to you. How I long for death! To put an end to this endless fight. To pass it on… You are truly lucky."

"That I am... My only remorse is my children. Richter has Annette, but Anne is alone, I fear I may have robbed her of much happiness."

"Do not say that, father. Taking care of you has made me happy." interrupted Anne.

"Watch over Anne May, let her have a normal life. Let her be free of our troubles. Promise me, Adrian!"

There was no answer.

Adrian looked at Anne pensively, and his eyes began to glow, she was afraid but could not look away, and then, she felt consumed by them.

When Anne woke in the middle of the night, Adrian was gone. The fire continued to burn brightly thanks to an incantation. She rushed to her father's chair but he too was gone. His scent still fresh haunted her. She felt alone, betrayed and angry. She wandered outside to look for any clue as to where they could have gone.

She found nothing.

Anne walked aimlessly for hours and when there was nowhere else to go, she went back home. There was message stuck to the front door which went unnoticed in her panic.

"_Where I go, my dear Anne May, you cannot follow. _

_Remember me as I once was, those are the days I most cherished. _

_When your mother watched us play,_

_When I raised you above the world,_

_In our rare times of normalcy,_

_Forgive the weight that comes with the Belmont name. _

_But I cannot change the past. _

_Though words can hardily suffice, they will have to do._

_Now go, my daughter, be free!"_

"Freedom will have to wait." said Alucard cutting through the midnight silence.

"Where is my father? What have you done with him?" screamed Anne desperately, "Answer me!"

"Juste Belmont is beyond pain and beyond worry. He is truly free." reassured Alucard. "My mission was always you. It was only when I got here that I realized Juste was near death. But I have wasted enough valuable time."

"All my father did was give you people all his time. He sacrificed everything for the world. His beloved, his family. My mother died asking for him but he was somewhere making sure the evils of the world remained unknown. My father wanted me free of all this pain!"

"Life is suffering. Juste knew it better than anyone. His was but a dream, an old and tired dream. The only future he could believe in." argued Alucard. "You must come with me so that I may train you. The world will need you. Look inside yourself. You know what I say is true."

Anne did not answer. She sat down in the cold dirt and watched the full moon. She was desperate and afraid. The world did not deserve her pity for it had never spared her family of anything. But as she searched inside herself, she quickly found realization. A peace heroes must attain to throw themselves selflessly at danger. The same peace her father once spoke about. What wouldn't she give to let other fathers, mothers, children be free and ignorant.

"_I fight for what I cannot have. And it drives me more than if I ever knew such tranquility. I fight for all the beauty unknown to me, the people I will never meet, the friends I will never have, the words I will never hear… But out there, someone will get to live everything. So the real question isn't 'Why me?', but rather 'Why not me?' For there are those who will take everything away. They will ask no questions, they will happily spread suffering for evil's sake. So, my darling daughter, to answer your accusation, I will gladly sacrifice my life for the little happiness I do know and to keep you safe. Even if it makes me, as you so bluntly put it, a 'bad father'." – Juste Belmont_


End file.
